Outside my window a winter rose,
white as snow,
comes and goes in the breeze.
Beyond, is the tracery of trees
...
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I like this poem. Tough as old boots are roses, though the flowers look so delicate. In our sheltered back garden we have a myrtle with a few flowers on - in January? ! I fear it will get colder though, before it gets warmer.
a petaled hope of summer's bloom exquisitely painted!
Very nice poem. I can really feel about the air. I feel that when it is winter and the trees are void of leaves, they should be really dreaming of the leaves. Anyway, I leave it to you.
Nice poem. Thanks for sharing.